Even before I leave the jetway, I can hear your voice, calling my name.
"Daaave!"
You wave your hand-written sign over your head and your enthusiasm lights up your entire face. I see the other travelers on my flight chuckle, and the flight attendant walking up the ramp beside me gives me a wink and a knowing smile.
"Take good care of her, " she whispers.
"I'm planning to," I whisper back, "I brought plenty of lube."
I see the momentary shock in her eyes at my brashness, and then she just grins wickedly.
I finally make it through the secure area, and we touch again, finally, after three long months. You throw your arms around my neck and I crush you to me, kissing you, tasting your lips, your tongue, your breath. My tongue meets yours, insistent, commanding, and you moan softly deep within your throat.
Suddenly, I become aware of the crush of the crowd around us, the feel of your nipples against my chest, and my hands grasping your hips and ass.
"Oh, crap," "Sorry!" we both exclaim at the same moment, and you step back and hurriedly brush your hair back into place, slightly out of breath, and we laugh the familiar, knowing laugh of two people who are intimate friends and lovers.
"Let's get the hell out of here," you exclaim, and I nod and grab the strap of my carry-on.
You drive slowly through the late evening Atlanta traffic, and we make small talk at first -- the weather, the Falcons, the silly thing that someone said in a thread. I slowly slip my hand under your blouse, and you give me an evil grin. "Behave," you tell me, as I massage and knead the heavy flesh of your breast through your bra, and then you moan softly when I find your erect nipple, and pinch it gently.
"Why?" I reply insolently, remembering my last visit, when we had parked on the side of an anonymous dirt road late one night, and I had buried myself deep inside you as you lay on the trunk, arms around my neck, heels urging me on. I remembered the white flesh of your breasts bouncing hypnotically as I hammered you to the rhythm of the cicadas and crickets on a warm Georgia night.
"Because you're distracting me too damn much, and I don't want to wreck, please?"
"Ok, ok" I grin. "The exit for the hotel is right here, anyway."
"Thank God," you say, and give me an impish little smile.
You park the car just to the side of the entrance, and turn off the engine, and I can hear the small ticking noises as it begins to cool -- and then I hear you whimper softly, and I turn to see your hands rubbing and squeezing your breasts through your blouse.
"Come on, let's go inside. Hurry u....ohhhhh," you moan softly, your words forgotten, as I slide my hand up under your skirt and begin to caress your thighs and crotch. You wordlessly slide down in the seat a few inches and spread your knees as far as the car will allow, beckoning me with your body. I cup the mound of your pussy in my hand and I can feel your heat beginning to rise. I gently reach within your slit with my finger, and find your clit engorged, hard, begging for attention. I brush it gently with my fingertip, grinning silently as you moan again, and then slide my finger easily inside your opening.
"Someone forgot panties again," I tease you.
"Shut up and get me in that room before I fuck you right here," you growl softly, and I arch my eyebrow at you.
We get out, and you straighten your skirt, brushing it down over your hips, and we go through the mundane routine of drivers license, key card, directions to your room, that any seasoned traveler could perform blindfolded. You cling to my side, your arm around my waist, and I jump slightly as I feel your hand move slowly over my ass.
The clerk grins at me, and in a faux-whisper, says, "Good luck!"
Finally, the check-in complete, we walk to the elevator, and wait. With a start, I realize that I'd barely even noticed how much you had dressed up for the evening, and guiltily, I say, "You look amazing tonight, Amber. I love the way that skirt fits you. Thank you."
"You're welcome," you giggle, and grab the front of my shirt and pull me into a slow, sensuous kiss. The *bing* of the elevator door interrupts our tongues, and we laugh shamelessly as the elevator empties.
As soon as the door closes, you grab my arms and pull me into you. I can see the lust in your eyes, glassy, as you whisper, low, "Fuck me."
"What, here?"
"Yes, right here in the elevator. Take me. You know you want to, Dave. Do it. Fuck me, hard."
Something inside me snaps, as though a filament of a fuse had overloaded, and I reach over and hit the emergency stop button. As if by magic, you appear on your knees in front of me, hands eager, fumbling for my zipper. You reach in and grasp me, the heat of your hand a sudden fire in the cool air-conditioned air, and you pull me out, already half-erect.
I feel your tongue now, gently swirling over the head of my cock, pushing into the hole, and then your mouth suddenly surrounds me, sucking me quickly to hardness, head bobbing.
I look down at you, your eyes aflame, red lips in a soft 'O' of need, as you impale your mouth on me, driving me toward your throat, as your eyes begin to water and your breathing becomes ragged.
